


your one wild and precious life

by saidtheticktockman



Category: Holes (2003), Holes - Louis Sachar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:41:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25465657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saidtheticktockman/pseuds/saidtheticktockman
Summary: The Warden wasn't always so cruel.warning: literally just a first draft I can't be bothered edit. oops.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	your one wild and precious life

Louise Walker was eight years old when she got her first Christmas present: a two foot tall shovel with a pink handle. It was also the first thing she’d ever owned that was brand new. 

Ever since she knew what it was, she’d always loved Christmas. In the storybooks she read (worn and stained copies, more often than not using old-timey language she couldn’t quite understand), the holiday was the highlight of every child’s life. She was told there would be presents and a lit-up tree and the smell of mince pie, all of it accompanied by a Santa going _ho, ho, ho_ in the distance. Maybe there’d even be other kids, family and friends, who would gather around a fire and share stories over warm cups of hot cocoa. 

It was too hot for a fire in Green Lake. Her parents couldn’t afford presents or to travel outside the barren desert for trees, and neither one of them could cook anything more complicated than boiled chicken. Besides, Louise didn’t even know what hot cocoa was, only that it was brown and that the name made her feel cozy and somehow more safe than she’d ever felt at home. 

She’d only asked about Santa Claus once, and her father - Freddie Walker, a blunt man of few words - had grunted “bullshit,” and that was that.

It’s important to note that, at merely eight years old, Louise was an awful mess of a kid. She was bone-skinny with harsh cheekbones and knobbly knees, her hair was always one big ginger mess on her head, and her clothes were always faded from overuse and at least a couple sizes too big. By no metric (at least if you’re from anywhere but Green Lake, Texas) was she ready for the long walk to the nearest school, let alone was she in any physical condition to start digging holes under the blistering sun. 

Nor did she want to. In fact, while she hated seeing her parents work away like maggots at their hole-infested land, she took one of her few pleasures in that it meant she usually had the whole day to herself. Even with the lack of toys or entertainment around the house to help her out, it was the time of day where, more often than not, she’d begun to figure out how to have some proper fun. 

However, her mother had reassured her that she wouldn't have to pick up a shovel for quite some time, so when Freddie called for his daughter so they could, quote unquote, _talk_ , she wasn’t too worried. 

“Took ye’ long enough,” he mumbled once she’d scrambled towards the rocking chair where her father was sitting, already panting from the minimal exertion.

“No - fair,” Louise gasped, then steadied herself on the fence surrounding then. “I’ve got little legs. I can’t run as fast as you.”

Freddie chuckled. “That may be true, but you oughta be stronger, too. You’ll be completely defenseless in the wilderness if you keep this up.”

Louise rolled her eyes discreetly. Her father loved talking about this mysterious wilderness, as if she’d ever been outside her hometown or could ever hope to. It was escapist, she supposed (although she didn’t use that word on account of being eight), but she still didn’t see why _she_ had to be dragged into it. 

Still, disagreement would surely lead to a beating, so she bit her lip and said, “right, yeah.”

He laughed again, a choking wheeze. “C’mere, my girl. Lemme braid your hair. It’s a mess.”

Louise skipped over happily. Although her father was too rough with the hairbrush and could never get the braids quite symmetrical, she was almost giddy from the attention he’d given her. Secretly, she wondered if this - this moment, this opportunity, this smile creeping out from the corner of her usually distant father’s face - was a Christmas miracle. 

As Freddie began brushing, Louise thought more about Christmas. Most of all, she liked imagining what would have happened if her stupid grandfather hadn’t fallen in love with a schoolteacher, if her parents had regular nine-to-five working hours instead of odd jobs and menial labouring at home, and if she’d been allowed to believe in Santa Claus for more than five minutes. 

It was nobody’s fault, really. It was just that, at barely eight years old, she didn’t understand that this was the way that things were in the Walker household. Her father had been raised this way, and if she were to have kids, she’d probably raise them the same. It was just the way this world worked. 

For Louise, the key word was _this_. 

She thought it was embarrassing and dumb, sure, but every night after her parents went to sleep (eight o’clock, both far too tired from the long day of digging to stay up a second longer) she liked to imagine how her life would be like in another world. She didn’t have to be a princess or queen like the girls in the storybooks, but maybe a well-fed knight or a lady of some sort. Then, she’d have her own room with her own bed with it, and actual friends her age rather than the occasional oddball brave enough to be associated with her family for company. Best of all, she’d get to celebrate Christmas. 

Ladies got to eat mince pie, right?

Freddie jolted her from that train of thought with a hard nudge. “Hey,” he groaned. “Louise. _Lou._ What’re you thinking about?”

Louise thought about lying, decided against it, and said, “Christmas.”

“Oh, you little shit. Look, I gotta-”

“Today’s Christmas. Did you know?”

“Yeah, yeah. Look, I gotta talk to you, Lou, and you’re not making it easy for me. Pipe down now, and I promise I’ve got a present for you afterwards.”

At that, her eyes widened. A Christmas present! She’d never received a present in her life! It was almost too good to be true. She was wiggling in her seat at the thought of it, tapping her fingers excitedly against the rotten floorboards and grinning wide like a cheshire cat. “I’m listening,” she giggled in a sing-song voice. 

Freddie sighed and leaned back in his rocking chair. “You’re almost grown now, Louise. You know what that means?”

Louise didn’t.

“Um… that I’m getting taller?”

“It was a stupid guess. Her father groaned. 

“Lou, I’m gettin’ old. Remember what I said about your legs? You’re getting big and strong now. Stronger than me. But with strength comes… responsibilities, all that stuff. I’ve had a talk with your mother, and she’s agreed that you need to start helping out the family.”

Louise didn’t understand any of that. She wasn’t strong, and she certainly wasn’t big - in fact, out of all the malnourished and worn-down kids in Green Lake, she was the scrawniest. And she helped plenty around the house, washing dishes and scrubbing floors and even cooking dinner when her parents were too tired to bother. 

Unless he meant…

_No._

Freddie’s mouth seemed to move in slow motion as he turned to her, eyes unreadable. “I think it’s time you start digging.”

She didn’t even think. Just after the last word left his tongue, she braced herself for a fraction of a second before sprinting across the sandy desert. She didn’t know where she was going, where she could run to, only that she needed to get away, away, as far away from her father and his hollow eyes as she could. 

_Not yet!_ It wasn’t supposed to happen yet. Maybe when she was older, twelve at the earliest (which seemed ancient to young Louise), she could start working like her parents. But not yet. Not now, not when she’d just learnt the rules of her new life, when to sleep and when to eat and when to allow yourself to dream of something else. 

It was made out to be a great honor, digging, but it sure didn’t feel that way. 

Freddie caught up with her, of course. Although it felt like eternities to his daughter, it only took him a couple of seconds to grab hold of her and force them both to the ground. She was panting from exhaustion, him from fury. He couldn’t fathom that his own daughter - _his flesh and blood!_ \- could be this selfish. He couldn’t imagine that this wasn’t the Christmas she’d hoped for, or why she even cared. 

“You - will - dig,” he huffed, grabbing her by the neck. “You’re gonna - pick up a shovel and help us out for once in yer goddamn life! Or, so help me God, I’ll leave you out in the desert for buzzard food. Is that understood?”

It was understood. 

But Louise didn’t know when to stop. So, although she managed to keep her mouth shut for the entire excruciating walk back home, she tugged on her father’s sleeve the minute they reached the stairs leading up to the porch. 

“You promised me a present,” she mumbled, voice barely audible. 

In response, Freddie held out the shovel. 


End file.
